Only You
by Anna V
Summary: Sydney is head over heels for him, however she has a lot in her way such as his annoying fiancee, a field agent who can't keep his hands off of her, and training to become a field agent. Too bad she's only his secretary. PreSeries. SS
1. Dinner with the Family

**Title**: Only You

**Author**: Sarandipity

**Rating**: PG-13ish

**Relationship**: Sark/Sydney

**Summary**: When Sydney is recruited to SD-6 she has to work within Credit Dauphine before she can start to train as an agent. What if she was put as a secretary for one of the most powerful senior agents at SD-6? What if it was no other than Mr. Sark?

**A/N**: This story came to me years ago and now that I have some spare time I've come to write it. I might not continue with the story if it isn't taken well. But one thing is sure, I'M BACK!

Might Sydney never spend another holiday with her father would be one of her most favorite presents of all. Her father flew her out from Los Angeles to New York to spend New Years Eve with him. He spent most of his time traveling for his company so he flew her out and now that she's out of school it's easier to spend the holidays with him. He's was lucky she had a reliable job, if he asked her a year ago while she was a waitress Sydney probably would have been working not only New Years Eve but Christmas as well. Sydney looked back and realize she shouldn't have gone to New York. She didn't know what to expect going to New York than bitter cold and room service.

Jack Bristow put her in a suite above his in the Hilton. It was a nice and quiet room and from her window she could see the Empire State Building. Before her father was let out of his meeting she found a little shop in the lobby and bought some stationary. Sydney bought a postcard of Times Square and wrote a small, chicken scratch message to Francie while she was in Paris being an au pair:

_Dear Francie,_

_I'm in New York for the weekend, spending time with my Dad. I saw the skaters in the R.C. and found a cute snow globe with the statue of liberty just for you. I hope your doing wonderful in Paris and the little monsters aren't a handful. _

_Love, Sydney_

Sydney sent the postcard out with a special new york stamp and hoped she would get it before coming home. She returned to her room to get ready for the dinner with her father. He had reservations at the Tavern on the Green. She was excited and hopeful they could spend a whole evening without an argument, which did not happen. Sydney shouldn't have expected it to.

Sydney began to get ready and made sure she would wear one of her mother's pieces of jewelry. Sydney found the beautiful hairpin to decorate her hair. It was a medium sized pin made out of crystals in a style of a bouquet of flowers. It was one of Sydney's favorite pieces because it was one of her mother's favorites as well. She had so many pictures of her mother wearing the pin, and each one of them which had her father in it, he was smiling adoringly, either at the camera or at her mother. Sydney had a false hope that he might get a smile out of her father if she wore the pin.

Her father came late and lost the reservation. He didn't even apologize, which is a quite horrible way to start the evening and for Sydney who has never been to New York. He decided just to catch a meal in the lobby's restaurant, which Sydney could of already told anyone that it was not an approving ambiance for her father.

"The china is quite large. I wonder what the potions will entail." He squinted his eyes and rearranged his placemat, moving his wineglass to the other side of his plate.

"I'm looking forward to the chinese salad," Sydney crossed her legs and brought up the menu a little more in her lap. "yummy."

He rolled his eyes from her childish excitement. "You're already too thin enough, Sydney. You should have the duck or the quail. What about the stake?"

Sydney's stomach threw a home-run when he mentioned the stake.

"I'm still a little jet-legged, dad. The stake sounds horrible to me."

"I told you not to take a tranquilizer on the plane." Jack reprimanded.

"I didn't take a tranquilizer." Sydney stressed.

"Then you shouldn't of have the free champagne. I put you in First, hoping you would get some sleep and instead you disregard my advice and now you can't have a nice dinner in New York."

Sydney wanted to run for a taxi and fly back home or perhaps to Francie and dance on top of the Eiffel Tower like they should have.

The waiter came and Sydney ordered her salad like she wanted, plus a glass of vodka. Alcohol would be her best friend then to replace Francie and Will while she was in a strange new place with almost a complete stranger. Sydney hated to think her father was a complete stranger, but as he came late did he even didn't even disclose the reason for his tardiness. Sydney was left alone to her own conclusions, like an alien abduction? She sighed as she hit planet earth and decided that it was more like a overworked meeting.

"Vodka? Are you insane?" Jack whispered over his plate as Sydney acquired the proper identification for the waiter.

Sydney just ignored him. "So, what do you think about the struggle of the post-war Serbia and the continuation of racial discrimination presently?"

"You are irresponsible enough, to have hard liquor in you is..."

"Oh, Dad it's just a glass of Smirnoff, I'm of age and don't you think I drank even more than that at UCLA? Come on. Francie was very popular around the frat parties." Sydney reached for a bread stick and placed it on her plate.

Jack leaned back defeated but still upset. As Sydney reaches over the table for the basket of bread, her sleeve rising up her arm and exposing a long narrow scar.

"Where's that from?" Jack inquired. Sydney paused and then looked at the scar and smiled nervously.

"Oh, I got that from the car accident years ago. Don't you remember?" Actually, Jack did remember it. Sydney totaled her graduation present while changing the radio station. The accident was entirely her fault as she drove into a telephone pole and almost knocked almost half of the power of the neighborhood. She passed out from a concussion and had a few scrapes and bruises but the car ended up in worse shape than the telephone pole or his daughter. But Jack certainly did not remember such a scar from her accident.

"How is school, Sydney?"

Sydney looked up from buttering her bread. "You...you didn't get my email in October?"

Jack eyes narrowed. "What email, Sydney?"

"I sent you an email." The waiter brought back their drinks and Sydney took the vodka almost to hide behind. "...and you didn't get it, okay. I thought you didn't call me back because you were angry. Wow...this is going to be a good night." She whispered to herself as Jack was straining to hear.

"Sydney..."

"I didn't apply for graduate school."

"What!" Sydney took a gulp from her glass as she tried to grab onto any gracefulness and poise she had left before her father ruined her in public with his rage. "You didn't apply for post-graduate studies?"

"I have a new job Dad. A great job at Credit Dauphine. I have my own house and a beautiful new car. I'm a secretary for one of the most important people in Credit Dauphine and soon I'll be put in advance placement where I'll get my own secretary. Oh, dad, it's such a great job and the guy I work for is so nice and considerate, he even gave me 200,000 flyer miles on my credit card. I'm getting ahead in the world and I'm going to make it."

Jack took the napkin from his lap and placed it on his plate. "I'm very disappointed in you Sydney. I..." Jack interrupted himself and moved uncomfortably in his chair as Sydney finished off her glass of vodka. "You think this job is going to secure you, Sydney. You need to go to graduate school nowadays. Is it the money, Sydney? I'll help you if you need it."

"No, Dad. It's not the money, it's because I love my job and I'm good at it."

"I expected more from you Sydney. More than this."

Sydney jaw dropped and her eyes lowered to her empty plate. Was she such a disappointment? Was she so terrible? What did she ever done wrong? Before she had the courage to speak up, Sydney cellphone rang. She sighed as she answered it. She wasn't sure if she was happy that she answered it or perhaps frustrated because she knew it was Melissa from the office.

"Hello? Melissa, calm down please." "Your not interrupting me, no, nothing important." "Please Melissa, breathe." "What is going on?" "What you mean the report is gone, I sent it up to you before I left." "What do you mean that the mail room lost it!" "What! No, no, everything is going to be alright." "Why can't you call Kenneth?" "He'll make sure that he'll get all the supplies he needs." "He's home?" "Well get him on the phone." "Do it now, Melissa." "No, Melissa I'm not upset at you...everything is going to be okay."

Sydney shut her cellphone and looked at her father. "Look, Dad. I'm going to have to go back to my LA and get everything sorted."

"You work for a bank Sydney, you can take an hour to spend with you father."

Sydney stood up and collected her bag. "But you never showed me the same courtesy," Sydney looked back to see Jack eyes glaze over. Sydney couldn't tell if his face showed concern, perhaps loss, or possibly some regret. Sydney wished she didn't because all she wanted to do was slap that look off of his face and speak his emotion in words. But she also knew that was the vodka talking.

Sydney stole someone else's cab, almost a cultural crime in New York City and asked for JFK. Sydney got the first flight out of there, making two stops on the way in Chicago and Phenix. By seven a.m. Sydney was back in warm, smoggy LA and searched for a cab to take her straight to Credit Dauphine. Sydney got there as people were coming to work on a normal schedule while Sydney's was completely behind. Jet-lagged, cranky, tired, and possibly had a hangover, Sydney walked into the main active agent's level and went to where Melissa was searching over her desk.

"Melissa, did you go home at all during the night?" Sydney asked concerned.

"No, I was afraid I would find it and you wouldn't have to leave New York. You say you never see your father."

Sydney rubbed her eyes. "Believe me, you probably saved me more than interrupted me." She whispered, she looked around and saw the mess of papers behalf of the search. "So, Kenneth is on vacation with his family. Where's Eliza?"

"Cabo," Melissa asked.

"Why is she in Cabo?" Sydney asked annoyed.

"Sorority trip?"

"Who in the right mind recruits a-soon-to-be-agent from a sorority?" Sydney shook her head, "I don't want to know...urgh."

"And Sloane? He hasn't approached you yet?" Sydney asked.

"He hasn't come in yet."

Sydney nodded her head. "This is good, we could get this done before he comes in and picks through his mail. Okay, get Vuruka on the phone."

"The Russian?" Melissa asked as she made a disgusted face. "The one who brought in the duck blood soup to potluck?"

"She's Armenian." Sydney corrected.

"But she doesn't speak english...and that's a polish dish..." Melissa sidetracked, she picked up the phone and called armory. They got Vuruka to send up the carbon copies of the orders and faxed it through the secure server. Sydney pulled the numbers off her secure network and began to write them down for armory's approval. Sydney got it all done and ran down to where Kenneth's station use to be and gave it to his temp, he soon approved it, stamped and signed it. An hour later Sydney ran up from armory and handed it to Mr. Sloane himself.

"You came all the way from New York to hand me this yourself?" Sloane wondered.

"Just dinner with my father, nothing I couldn't leave." Sydney smiled as he saw it approved by arms.

"You show much commitment to your job Sydney, it will pay off soon." He commented.

"Thank you sir, it's a pleasure."

Sydney went back to Melissa, sitting behind her desk and biting her nonexistent nails. "So?"

"Everything is fine."

Melissa sighed and stood up and left the mess to Sydney. Sydney took the chair and leaned her throbbing head back as she used her feet to moving the revolving chair back and forth in a soothing motion. "You're never temp-ing for me again, Melissa."

"I wouldn't bother." Melissa smiled and promised her a very nice late christmas present. Sydney told her it wasn't necessary but Melissa insisted.

Sydney ran her fingers through her hair and as she did she brushed her hairpin right out of her hair, oblivious that it dropped on the floor. She began to pile the paperwork up and shifting it in order. She put it in her bottom drawer and put her photography frames back up on their stand on the corner of her desk. All Sydney thought about was going home and sleeping but she knew she had to stay and put on a full day, it would show Sloane her persistence and dedication.

She looked at her clock and realized she had to start getting things in order before the nine o'clocks began to roll in. She ordered the same coffee and breakfast item that she bought every morning and began to get things set up on the schedule database.

He came in, never a minute early and never a minute late and when Sydney saw him come round her desk her hangover shortly disappeared and a smile appeared on her face.

"Good morning, Mr. Lazerey."

"You know Sydney, you can call me Julian."

"I can, but I won't." Sydney took a sip from her coffee cup and handed his messages to him as he exchanged it for his blackberry.

"You will, one day."

Sydney scoffed it. "You wish."

As he walked into his office, Sydney couldn't help but crack a small smile. Yep, she loved her job. It was all worth it.


	2. Total Disappointment

Only You

**Chapter One**

She lost it. She could not believe that she just lost it. She looked down at the floor around her and began to circle her desk several times and then got down on her hands and knees and crawled in the cubby of her desk believing she would find her precious heirloom.

Sydney Bristow never lost a thing in her life. She would misplace them, yes and she couldn't speak in behalf of her missing socks from the dryer. But never did she loose one of her mother's belongings. Sydney almost threw a tantrum as she looked for the rhinestone flower hair pin. She had a picture of it as well, her mother sitting in a snowy park in West Virginia, holding onto her father's arm with her thick black hair being parted by the flower hair pin. The same pin that was combed into her hair that very morning. It was almost heartbreaking to know it was just gone. Sydney shook her head, no, she'll see it again, she promised herself.

Frowning, Sydney stood up and answered the ringing telephone that's she had been ignoring for past five minutes.

"Hello? Julian Lazerey's office." Sydney answered. Sydney began to nod, "Yes sir, I'll get that right to you."

Sydney put the telephone back on the cradle and found a past receipt and put it in the envelope and sent it to mail room.

On her way back she walked right into a moving figure, trying to walk past her in a hurried pace. It almost caught her off balance and she began to wobble on the heel of her shoes. As she fell back Sydney felt a pair of large hands catch her by the forearms and pulled her from her slanted fall.

"There you go," a voice brought her into focus and she looked up to the man who saved her from making a complete fool out of herself. At first she was upset, but then she quickly forgave him when he saw how green his eyes were.

"Wow, I'm really sorry. I wasn't looking." He tried to excuse himself. "I'm Michael Vaughn. I just transfered here, my partner is Marcus Dixon."

Sydney bit her lip from forgiving him, still somewhat annoyed. "I know Mr. Dixon, very nice man." Sydney smiled as she put a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Who's your partner?" Michael asked. He laughed and ran his fingers through his hair, "What I mean is, are you a field agent?"

"No, I'm not." Sydney shook her head. Vaughn lowered his gaze and she quickly corrected herself. "Well, not yet. I'm in the pre-training program." Sydney falsely told him.

"Oh, I had to do freakin' three years in the mailing room before they had space to take me into the program."

Sydney almost let a laugh escape. "Three years? Really? I guess I have a while to go then." She teased.

"You didn't tell me your name..." Vaughn smiled.

"Sydney."

"Like the city."

Sydney smiled embarrassed and slightly annoyed, lookin at her shoes and nodded. "Yes, like the city."

"Well, I have to go see the grim reaper." Vaughn gave a small chuckle as he nodded her head pass her. Sydney snapped her head around and saw Mr. Sloane in his office with two other men. She realized Vaughn meant him.

"He's not all that bad." Sydney told him, remembering receiving a potted plant from him and his wife, Emily, for Christmas present. She still had the plant on her desk and it just started to bloom. "It's just tricky to get on his good side."

Vaughn showed a toothy grin when he passed her by and she returned to her desk.

"Sydney, I need to see you." The intercom went off. Sydney took her notepad and took another look around the desk for the hairpin and then gave up as she went into her boss's office. When she entered the office she observed her familiar surroundings. There was a small liquor cabinet in the corner covered by neat piles of paper, organized by her. His computer on the desk with sets of new paper and trivial clutter. There was two picture frames, one that was empty (and secretly wished it was a frame that will one day hold her picture) and the other of the witch (and secretly wished to destroyed).

She saw him, wearing his suit nicely pressed and tailored pacing around his office.

Sydney looked down at her payless shoes and her Chanel knock-off tweed black suit and prayed for cleavage. She pressed her arms on her side and did the best she could but she made a mental note of getting a Wonderbra on her next shopping trip.

Sydney sat down in one of the chairs and watched him think. She remembered the first day she came into SD-6 during her tour. Wilson was her recruiter who showed her the steps into becoming a field agent. New recruits are required to work within Credit Dauphine up to three years, doing paperwork, working in finances, even work at the front desk for civilian bank and savings. However, being as bright as she was, she was put into a special program called advance placement. Sydney would learn from the best by being their best. Secretarial work wasn't the first thing she had in mind, until she was introduced to Julian Lazerey. Childishly, Sydney admired him in every aspect. He was a very respectable senior agent and very bright indeed. The first day she probably knew she was in love with him was the day she saw a worn copy of "Eugene Onegin" on his desk, the same novel she was reading at that time.

She probably would have had him if it wasn't for the witch.

"I have a trip to Kuwait in three days. Normal business meeting." Sark spoke.

"Will you need the Kevlar body vest and a semi-automatic?" Sydney smiled.

A laugh came out of Sark. "A Beretta would do nicely."

Sark took a look from the mirror and towards Sydney. The first time he saw Sydney she was wearing a casual shirt and slacks, ever since then she had been wearing the same casual wear but that day she wore something more secretarial. Nice little thoughts went into his head about her pencil skirt and tweed blazer, cute little pair. Sark watched her cross her gorgeous, lengthy legs. What he loved most of all about was her hair. God, was it beautiful. Soft curls one day and straight the next. He adored the chestnut color and amber glow in the sun. He use to watch her play with her hair and when she tries to push it aside, annoyed.

"I need my suit picked up from the dry cleaners for the gala."

"I'll do that at lunch." And he loved when she went up and above for him. "Would you like me to pick up something from lunch?"

"No," Sark came around the desk and went into his trouser pocket. There was one truth between them that existed, that they could never be together. Sydney watched him as he leaned back against his desk and take out a velvet square jewelry box. Sydney's heart stopped, no, she shook herself, this can't be.

Sark opened the box and showed Sydney the large carat diamond ring. "Oh my god."

Sark snapped it closed and put it in his pocket. "I'm having dinner with Lauren before the gala. I'm going to propose to her."

"You're...propose...to Lauren?" Sydney puckered her lips together and nodded. "That's the ring to do it with." She spoke silently.

She couldn't help feel regret. Bloody gorgeous ring that was the size of a throwing stone. Sydney was in complete disarray. He was going to propose to Lauren, he was going to marry someone else. All the months of she obsessed over him for a worthless cause. Francie had told her so and warned her not to get too involved, and of course she didn't listen. Not one piece of information did she take.

"You don't think it's too..."

"Big?" Sydney finished. "Yes, it's a knocker. But knowing Lauren, it's perfect."

"But you?"

So, she did have a opinion?

"I have a fear of drowning, that thing would take me to the bottom." Sydney laughed it off, making herself feel better for such an awkward situation. "No, seriously? Um...I rather have something a little more delicate and simple. Marriage isn't a materialistic value and if you're really happy, you don't need to flaunt it so."

Sydney bit her lip and looked down at her shoes, shaking her head in regret. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

Sark didn't allow her to apologize. "No, I think that's nice. Nice and simple."

Yes, simple. Sydney thought. Was that all Sark thought she was, a simple little secretary who picked up his dry cleaning when he wanted her to? Sydney knew almost everything about him, even things he probably didn't know himself. Sydney didn't have an expensive car or travel first class (all the time) and she certainly didn't possess a wardrobe full of high fashion designers, but she was infatuated with him besides those things. She was amazed from his success, culture, and that he was one of the youngest senior agents in SD-6.

"So, will I see you at he gala tonight?" He asked.

Sydney eyes lit up and nodded. "I'm taking my roommate Francie as my guest. She's been getting ready all afternoon."

She remembered asking Francie to the dinner two weeks ago and she couldn't hold back her excitement. She raved on how exciting and romantic it would be dancing and having a five course meal by candlelight. Sydney told her to hold it back and not get too excited. There were going to be a lot of rich, old snobs and only a few of her friends. Francie just ran to the beauty salon, excited to be served at a beautiful business dinner instead of serving it.

Sydney looked down at her blank notebook and began tapping her pen. "So, a Berreta, Kevlar, stainless steel suitcase?"

"Yes, along with a digital code lock." He decided.

"When will you leave?"

"The fifth."

"I'll call to schedule to flight to Kuwait and hotel room. How long will you be expected to stay?"

"Three nights, possibly." Sark squinted her eyes and looked at the blank notepad. "Aren't you suppose to be writing this down?"

"It's up here." Sydney took her pen and tapped the side of her head. "Wouldn't be training as an agent if I couldn't take a few mental notes."

Sydney went out for her lunch break and grabbed Sark's suit from the dry cleaners. She put his bill in petty cash and grabbed a sandwich from the Italian deli on the street and put it on her credit card. When she got back into her car she starred at her credit card and her name at the bottom of it; Sydney A. Bristow. She admired how far she had come with the job and decided not to be guilty for leaving school. She graduated with a degree in Literature and Education and she should of been proud of that accomplishment. Sydney should of even felt more proud that she was one out of twenty-one trainees at that time to be put in advance placement. In only a few short months she would have her own office, with a partner, have access to arms, meet her handler more often, and even go through intensive training. But there was a hole inside, a feeling of emptiness and she didn't know what was missing and until then she was going to continue to feel lost.

Sydney returned to SD-6 and went through the office, suit in hand, and hung it up behind Sark's desk as he was shifting through paperwork. Sydney took his blueberry out of her pocket and gave it to Sark.

"I sent the papers to Kenneth now that he's back to work and he promised me he'll have it ready by tomorrow." Sydney told him. She saw Sark completely engulfed in intelligence papers and contact sheets and felt for how hard he truly worked. She catered to him, filling the empty glass of water, picking it up and moving to the pitcher sitting on top of his liquor cabinet. Sydney returned it to his desk. Sark would have said thanks if he wasn't trying to figure out how Sydney got the order to speed up. Usually it took a week to clear personal request to the company armory because they worked on processing missions equipment first.

"How did you manage that, Miss Bristow?" Sark looked up from his paperwork and watched her flip her hair off her shoulder.

Sark was going to find out from Kenneth any other way, so she confessed. "I gave him ballet tickets."

Sark smiled unbelievably. "To see the American Ballet Theater? For the ballet A Midsummer Night's Dream?"

"The same."

"I gave those tickets to you, for you to go." Sark pointed out.

"And the only good that came out of Lauren being sent to a conference in San Francisco was allowing Kenneth and his wife, which he never sees much now, a nice romantic night out without the kids. I'm wasn't missing much, I was Heremia three years ago in my college production." Sydney winked as she put her hands on his desk and lowered. "Plus, it puts your order on express." She walked out of the office leaving Sark to his paperwork.

_She's so unselfish_, Sark thought. _I can't wait to see her tonight._

He took the velvet box out of his pocket again and cracked it open, moving the box back and forth in the light to see the brilliant diamond shine. He knew in his heart that the ring didn't belong to Lauren, but his heart would cause his death if he listened to it. Like any good agent he followed his brain and everything he was ever trained to do in that line of work, even if he was lacking in the affairs of love.

"Mr. Lazerey..." Sydney's voice trailed on the intercom and Lauren bursted through the door in her own self-obsessed attitude. But, apparently, he loved it.

"Darling," She purred as she sat down on the desk next to him. "My mother and father just told me that they can't come tonight, but they'll be there Monday night for dinner."

"I'm sorry, love. I'll have to miss it. Prompt trip to the Middle East, can't you possibly reschedule?"

"Reschedule? Yes, of course." Lauren crossly said. "Some other time then."

Sark began to get back to his papers and began to put them in the in and out box. "Don't you have a secretary to do all that?"

Sark looked up. Lauren was an amazing woman. She came from good money and breeding, she was given the best education in London, and she was beautiful. Lauren was brilliant too and caused a little trepidation on her behalf, but it wasn't like Sark couldn't control a woman like her. It was quite easy, she could be easily distracted with something and might not trust herself completely. What you saw was what you got from Lauren, however, it was women like Sydney that caused more than trepidation, she made Sark wonder in amazement. Looking at Lauren anyone could see she came from a powerful family and was never denied a thing, with Sydney no one could guess that she was certainly not the girl next door nor she came from the two most powerful and skilled agents in intelligence history.

"Sydney does a lot for me, least I could do is organize a few papers."

"Sydney?" Lauren scoffed. "She gets your dry cleaning," she pointed to the suit hanging up in the corner of the office. "And runs papers to Sloane."

_I question why the hell is such a plain girl doing in advance placement._ Lauren thought bitterly.

"Did you do that years ago for your father?"

"I wasn't a secretary. When I was in advance placement I was actually shadowing an agent, not running to the mailroom and xerox machine." Lauren rolled her eyes.

Lauren was waiting for a reply, possibly a smart retort about the girl that annoyed her much. Instead Sark looked passed her and his blue eyes shinned. "Miss Bristow."

Lauren turned around and flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder and saw Sydney enter the doorway with files in hand. Lauren's red lips parted and she looked away from her, not sure if she was embarrassed or secretly laughing. Sydney knew girls like her in boarding school, when body issues were as common as a Louis Vuitton bag and riding boots. Or possibly worse, the girls in college that stole her ballet shoes or soaked them in water in jealousy of receiving the main role. Everyone was criticizing her, her father, Sloane, and even Sark's soon to be fiancee.

"Mr. Sloane wanted to give these to you for tonight." She gave Sark an envelope of two identification passes and nodded.

"Why did you interrupt?" Lauren questioned.

Sydney moved her head towards where she was sitting. "You knocked the phone off the hook."

Sark looked behind where Lauren was sitting and saw the phone laying besides the cradle. Lauren rolled her eyes and became annoyed by Sydney.

"I have to pick up my dress from Rodeo. They just fitted it," she only spoke of her schedule only to display her taste for high fashion. "It's the one you liked so much." She flirted. Lauren looked behind and worked her eyes up and down Sydney, looking at her black heels and matching vintage suit.

Lauren couldn't help but smile. "Sydney..." she hopped off the desk and walked around. "What a lovely suit, is that Chanel?"

Sydney blushed. She was caught, wasn't she? Even during boarding schools everyone knew her Prada bag was fake, but no one ever confronted her about it because everyone's little black backpack was a fake. However this was different, this woman would eat her alive by desecrating her prized and highly expensive fashion designers. But she wouldn't be a good spy if she allowed to be discovered of this secret, would she?

_What if she wants to see the tag? Oh god._

"No. Ann Taylor." Sydney confessed. Lauren eyebrows raised and started to nip at invisible lint on Sydney's collar.

"Nice suit though," She sighed. "But I despise polyester blends."

Lauren turned her back to Sydney and looked back at her lover. "Goodbye darling, I'll see you at home, alright?" Lauren picked up her bag and left.

Sark opened his mouth, getting ready to apologize for Lauren's character but Sydney stopped him by looking at her watch.

"I have to start to get going. Francie's probably waiting for me, wondering where I am."

Sydney looked into his blue eyes, full of what she guess was remorse but she couldn't quite tell, they were always hollow and dark since the first day she met him.


	3. You're In Love With Your Father!

**Chapter 3 - "You're in love with your father"**

Lauren took her Nicole Miller gown out of the garment bag and then hug it on the door as she began to take the curlers off her peroxide blonde hair. Julian was on the bed rolling up his black trouser socks up his calves. He couldn't help feeling utterly disrespected from Lauren's comments but he admitted that he was use to apologizing for her and what she said to Sydney was one of her less intimidating remarks. It was peculiar how similar the two women were, both went to private and boarding schools, both of their fathers' occupations were in government, and both were highly intelligent. However, it was obvious that Sydney outshine Lauren in manners and grace. Lauren was ungrateful and inconsiderate, and what Sark concluded was because she had never lost a single thing. Sydney had lost her mother and the love and attention of her father, more than some people can handle.

Lauren fixed her hair and took her gown off the hanger. She slipped it over her head and tugged the chiffon over her hips. She walked into the room and asked him to zipper the back.

"What happened to the red one?" Sark mused. He remembered her earlier that afternoon remark about the gown he adored. He didn't so much adore it for the style but for the color.

"You really expected me to wear the one you fancied?"

Sark fists tightened, why did she have to be so difficult?

Lauren walked away from him after he zippered her back and went to the nightstand where the velvet box sat. Lauren picked it up and opened it, she took the large diamond ring out of the box and slipped it on her finger.

"Did you pick the ring?" Lauren asked as she stared at it. She held it out in the sunlight that was escaping through the windows, moving it back and forth, causing little rays of white light rain down her black dress.

"No, Irina did."

Lauren scoffed. "Can't be a real diamond then, though it is beautiful work."

Sark raised an eyebrow. "It's a bug, no one will be suspicious of it because you'll be expected to wear it all the time."

"Is that why we're getting married? So I can wear a bug?" Lauren almost whispered as she returned to the bathroom to apply her usual black eyeliner and mascara.

"We're getting _married_," Sark said, placing an emphasis on the word married "because you and I are suppose to be the perfect high ranking couple." Sark followed Lauren into the bathroom as he began to button his cuffs to his sleeve.

"But, darling," Lauren purred full with deception. "Our relationship can't be based on what others, after all I want a beautiful ranch with a little boy that looks just like you."

Sark shuttered. "Irina would have you off the mission if that would ever happen."

Lauren raised an eyebrow and turned around with a smile. "So if I got knocked up I would go home?"

Sark stepped in, filling the space between them and looked down, his breath on her face and his eyes searching hers. She looked up, almost giving in to his lust, her breath becoming a short as his and her heart beating faster as each warm breath blew on her face. Sark opened his mouth and Lauren expected him to whisper some wonderful beautiful comment as he use to when they began to work together, but what came out of his mouth almost sent Lauren into a tantrum. "I would love to have a son with blue eyes but I wouldn't have a child with you if Irina ordered me to."

Sark gave her a quick wink and smirk then left the bathroom. Lauren, in a fit, followed him out with only one eye done.

"Knowing you, you would have a child with Irina instead. Your obsessed with that woman. Why?"

Sark took his blazer off his chair and sung it around his arms as he put it on.

"Because she doesn't cry if she's put on a waiting list for a Hermes bag."

"No, she just steals one." Lauren snapped.

Sark ignored her. "Are you ready?"

"Give me a few more minutes."

Sydney and Francie entered the ballroom later that night. Francie was full of awe and delight. She always worked at one of these affairs but she was always wearing a suit and either serving the dishes or pouring another glass of champagne or wine. This time, she _was_ the guest. So when the first waiter that came pass them, Francie took a glass of champagne right off his tray. Sydney smiled in encouragement and looked around for her colleagues. Suddenly at the corner of the room, Melissa raised on her toes and waved towards Sydney. She gave a small wave and escorted Francie who was still caught up in the grander of the ballroom.

Sydney had to admit the beauty of her surroundings. The light was subtle and warm, almost as if they were in a glass of amber champagne themselves. There was music from a live string quartet and the soft background of conversation and whispers that echoed through the room. It was something beautiful and romantic, only if Sydney had someone to share it with than her former college roommate.

"Sydney!" Melissa smiled.

"Hi guys." Sydney looked at the other secretaries that were also in her advance placement program and then back at Francie. "Francie, this is Melissa," Melissa was a warm young girl with flaming red hair and a youthful disposition. Francie took Melissa's hand and shook it. "This is Eliza." Eliza was one of the youngest in the program and the most social, being apart of a sorority and social committee at UCLA. "This is Meredith and Shawna." Francie shook both of their hands as well. "Guys, this is Francie, my roommate."

"Not to mention her best friend since sixth grade." The girls laughed and they began to pick off of the entree tray that the waiter's carried around.

"So, has any of you danced yet?" Sydney asked.

"Ah, not yet. I'm waiting on my boyfriend. He's at the bar..." All the women turned and saw a group of men together at the open bar in the back of the room exchange what Sydney could only guess was dirty jokes. "He's found his home."

Another burst of laughter from the bar caused the girls to giggle with humor. "Well, that's guys for you." Francie said.

As the girls laughed politely at Francie's comment, Sydney scanned the room for Sark. There was nothing she was expecting more than having Sark's hand on Lauren's but she still knew she wouldn't like it. Now it was final though, she would never be with him and she had to start accepting that. How could she when she's begun to accomplish so much. Her career was fantastic but her personal life was severally lacking. She hadn't slept with a man in almost two years. It was almost depressing that she was so successful yet so alone.

Sydney finally found him and she almost melted at the sight of him. He was there, his lips moving with every word he said and then he moved his body to allow Lauren to accompany the space. She saw him cling onto his shoulder as she smiled with joy and showed the onlooker her large engagement ring.

"Maybe not..." Melissa drawled as the girls saw Sydney watch Sark.

"He's out of your league. He only likes those London socialites and debutantes." Eliza told her.

"Sydney was a debutant." Francie defended.

"Yeah, but you know what I mean. He likes those kind of girls."

"Like what? Snakes like her." Melissa truthfully said. "I would kill her myself if I could if it would give Sydney a chance."

"Then go ahead. Kill her, get it out of the way so Sydney can marry him."

Sark took Lauren by the hand and both of them began to waltz with the string quartet. Sydney sighed as she took the final sips of her champagne. Maybe they were perfect for each other? Sark was not like any of the men she has ever met and Lauren was, well, quite a character herself. Perhaps in a strange and unexpected way they belonged together. Who was she to believe she had a chance for a man like him? It was quite depressing, so as he saw the perfect pair simply guide over the dance floor she motioned for the waiter.

"Another champagne."

"What's so great about him, anyway? He's always out of the country on business, he's cold and unresponsive to most, has the most horrible attitude to people, and he probably spend more money on suits than he does on his housing." Eliza told her.

Francie looked at Sark and then back to Sydney as her jaw dropped. "Oh my god." She whispered with excitement and disbelief.

"What?" Sydney eyes narrowed.

"Oh. My. God."

"What?"

"You're in love with your father?" Francie declared.

"What!" Sydney exclaimed along with her fellow friends simultaneously.

"Yeah, you're in love with your father. Everything she just described is exactly the same description of your father!" Francie told her.

Sydney denied it all. "No. You're insane. You think I would fall for someone like my father."

Francie nodded her head impatiently. "Yes. It's all these daddy issues you have and this is how you're dealing with them. Falling in love with someone like your father."

"She could be right you know," Melissa agreed. "It's all Freudian. Most of us will end up marring someone like our father."

Oh god. Sydney just hit a brick wall when Melissa agreed. Could it be true? Was Julian Lazerey just like her father? Yes, he was out of the country a lot on his meetings and missions, and yes he was quite rude to others but that was because he didn't like to get close to a lot of people but he liked her, and yes he did have more suits than casual wear--

Oh god, I am in love with my father.

Francie started to roll into hysterical laughter as Sydney's mouth dropped and stood there in thought and half denial.

"Nah..."

No one expected him to be there, but he came anyway. He moved towards the door and ignored the valet with a cold glare as he asked for his keys. He deposited them in his hands and went into the building. He despised these little parties SD cells arranged, trying to act as if they were CIA dinner parties that he used to look forward ever so often when he was younger. This time the guest were the rich and the powerful full of corruption and greed. When he was young he was idealistic and the most left-winged student at his college and now he still kept to his liberal ideals. Things have changed, how did they changed.

He found Sloane in the corner of the ballroom with his loving wife never leaving his side. He adored Emily, but hardly showed it in an affectionate way, but he listened to every word she said and when Emily would teasingly or affectionately put a hand on Jack he would deny her, no give her any cold glare he usually gave to others.

_That I give to Sydney sometimes_, he thought.

Emily was good to Sydney, as was Sloane but he rather not admit it after he recruited her.

He approached them and he expect Sloane to smile at his old friend and Emily to hug him. Well, Emily did. Her mouth grew wide into a grin as came towards him and gave him a tight squeeze. But Sloane began to walk on eggshells.

"Jack! How are you? I haven't seen you in the longest time." Emily declared.

"I'm quite well."

"Great!"

Sloane looked quite worried when he said, "Jack, I wasn't expecting you to even come."

"Yes, well I don't intend to stay long." Jack admitted.

"That's quite unfortunate, you'll have to have dinner with us soon."

Jack nodded with a gentle smile and Sloane took him by the arm. "Jack, may I have a word."

He agreed as they both moved out of Emily's sight. "I wasn't expecting you to come Jack."

"You said that before, Arvin." Jack noticed some nervous tone in his voice as he spoke.

"Well, this is quite the awkward situation Jack. See, I invited Sydney as well as the other trainees in advance placement." Sloane confessed as he motioned to the other side of the room..

Jack eyes shot from Arvin pass the waltzing partners and onto his daughter, Sydney. She stood with her childhood friend, Francie Calfo and the other secretaries on the seventh floor. His eyes widened on how mature she looked in the soft glow of the chandeliers. When he saw her in New York she sat there with childish outburst and goofy smiles and then he saw her, dressed to perfection, acting as if she was the socialite of the night.

She was embodying her mother at that exact point. The dress she had on was one he remembered so well as he hands clung to it most of the night when him and Laura went to their first banquet together. How Sydney managed to find that dress in the collection of boxes was unknown to him but there is was, fitting perfectly on her as she smiled and flirted among the crowd. Her mother was a great socialize, always having everyone in the palm of her hand as she spoke and Sydney was exactly the same. Everyone was hanging at the end of every word she spoke.

"I thought advance placement trainees were not invited to social events along with other trainees."

"Well, under the circumstances, Jack, I decided not to do that this year. Sydney works very hard Jack, she's an extraordinary woman."

Laura's an extraordinary woman, Jack. You must be very lucky. The words from the past echoed in his head still.

"Young woman, Arvin." Jack corrected.

Sloane stood up straight. "Yes, Jack. Young woman. But she certainly does not act like it. Look at her, she'll be a great agent one day."

Jack started to get shifty with Sloane's comments. Jack took them as to be inappropriate, however with Sloane, they were what a doting father would have said. And each correction he made, Jack was only feeding Sloane's obsession with Sydney.

"I plan at the end of the month to send Sydney on an assisted mission and give her the possibility of moving up the latter if she shows her skill, which I doubt won't happen." Sloane paused as he raised his eyebrow. "She's loyal enough, Jack, for you to tell her the truth. If, that is, you want to."

"Sydney doesn't care much for her father, Arvin." Jack told him in third person as if Jack Bristow was a separate entity. "But last thing she needs to know is the betrayal of her father."

Or finding out her whole life was based on a lie. Sydney thought.

"I leave. Tell Emily that I'll see her later."

Jack left abruptly as Sloane returned to Emily.

Emily put her arm around her husbands and smiled when he came back over. Sloane told her about Jack abrupt departure and wasn't so surprised or disappointed, Jack had a tendency to be such a character. She missed the old days terribly, when her friends would come over and they would have warm and fun discussions. Her and Laura would spend their time in the kitchen preparing the meal as their husbands would talk business and then they would clean up afterward and the men would have drinks and talk even more business. She missed braiding Sydney's hair when she was just a little toddler and watching Laura chase her around the front yard, wishing it was her.

She could understand why Jack wasn't the same after Laura's death, and still was affected to this day.

She assumed Jack would become his old friendly self again after his death, even if he was somewhat distancing even before Laura's death, but Sloane advised her not to think that way, as if he knew more than she did. And perhaps he did.

"Emily, I'll have to ask you not to speak about Jack presence tonight to Sydney. It would upset her to know that her father was here and didn't visit her." Sloane sympathetically asked.

"Oh, yes, of course." Emily understood, causing her husband to smile. "Where is Sydney, anyway. I would like to see her, Arvin."

Sloane obeyed as he asked on of his associates to bring Sydney over. Sydney came right over without any assistance, bring her friend Francie over as well.

"Mr. Sloane." Sydney greeted. Sydney shook Sloane's hand promptly and then moved towards Emily, who extended her hand but as they were shaking hands leaned in to give Sydney a kiss on her cheek.

"Sydney, this is my wife Emily." Sloane introduced.

"Hi, nice to meet you." Sydney smiled. "Mr. Sloane, Emily, this is Francie Calfo."

Francie greeted them with a handshake and a smile. "Francie is in Business School." Sydney bragged about her.

"Really?" Emily exclaimed. "What kind of business would you like to go into?"

"I would like to own my own restaurant." Francie said proudly.

Emily smile widened. "That's fantastic!"

"Emily is a culinary genius herself." Sloane smiled.

"Arvin!" Emily protested in embarrassment. "I just like preparing a nice meal once and a while."

"Francie's the best. I mean she could make the greatest casserole out of hot pockets and instant ramen noodles using our hot-pan!" Sydney exclaimed remembering the days in the UCLA dorm room and having nothing but instant food lying around to eat. Francie was a genius, anything she made could have been out of a restaurant. Emily and Sloane looked skeptical and somewhat disturbed from Sydney's outburst.

"Well, we had limited resources in college." Francie explained. "A mini fridge wouldn't fit into our dorm room so most of our food was either from the cafeteria or dry ingredients that we could make with a microwave from a dorm room next to us or the hot-pan we owned. So I used a more creative approach to help change it up once and a while."

"She once made pasta sauce out of peanut butter cups." Francie looked down at her feet in embarrassment as Emily gave a small chuckle. "It was gross, but creative!" Sydney raved.

"Well, not to mention four sheets to the wind." Francie added.

Emily began to laugh with girls out of a memory that could have been from her own past. Emily went to college and had a similar experience. At a last minute she put together a dinner for her and her then sweetheart only using a variety of connivence items and a Bird's Eye television dinner. Things boiled over and the television dinner burnt in the oven. She couldn't quite remember it all but he refused to see her after the horrible dinner. She began to take cooking lessons after that horrific experience.

"Well, Sydney is a fantastic cook herself." Francie told Emily.

"Sydney is this true?" Emily said surprise.

"Oh no, not as good or creative as Francie." Sydney said with humility. "Just the basics."

"God no. Sydney does the best ethnic food! Sometimes she'll come home in just a tail spin and start to cook something from a country I've never heard of. You should try her borsch, I thought it was going to be very bland but it was the best thing I've ever tasted."

Sloane looked at Sydney with a raised eyebrow. "You like to cook Russian food?"

"Yeah. Mexican and Chinese too. But Russian is just a niche I have. I just hate it when the beets dye my hands though. Takes days to get them to stop looking magenta." Sydney confessed.

Sloane found that too interesting to pass up. "You must come and teach Emily some time about Ethnic cuisine."

Emily face light up at the thought of her little Sydney cooking besides her as her mother once did. "Oh, Sydney you must. I would love it."

"Well, I'm sure you're husband can help you contact me anytime. My hours are pretty predictable."

"Most of the time," Francie added.

"I'll do that." Emily told her as she held tighter against her husband's arm. "I look forward to it."

The silence after Emily's remark was broken when Sloane motioned over Sydney's shoulder. Sydney turned around and saw her boss, Mr. Julian Lazerey just lurking behind her.

How long has he been there?

He joined the group as Sloane waved his hand to come over. He stood away from Sydney, opposite Francie, so he could observe his secretary from a better view. There she stood, wearing the most fantastic grecian silk gown he had ever seen and she did much justice wearing it, better than Lauren did wearing her plain Nicole Miller dress. But what made her stand out among ever woman in the room, and perhaps even more than Lauren, that the gorgeous and outstanding color of her gown. Red. Bright Red. The color reminded beautifully of blood on white pure driven snow. She seemed so innocent and that night she stood there, a deadly seductress. But when Sark, letting his eyes run up and down her nice figure ended at her eyes, there it was, the innocence he just described. It was right there in her eyes.

"Hello, Julian. I'm sure you remember Emily." Sloane reminded as Emily took Sark's hand and shook it.

"Of course." Sark said. "And Miss Bristow."

Sydney nodded and began to continue to stare at him, lost in her own sense of reality. He motioned toward Sydney's left, "You're friend, I presume?"

Oh, damn. "Oh, yes! Sorry!" Sydney apologized nervously. "This Francie, my roommate."

Francie couldn't wait to shake his hand. When he did, she turned back to Sydney and gave her such an agreeing stare. "Excuse me, I'm going to the little girls' room."

As Francie left, Sydney couldn't help to smile affectionately at her boss. She simply adored him and it was very obvious to many, especially Emily. She watched her eyes light up when he came over and ever since then she hadn't allowed her eyes to leave him. It was quite endearing in Emily's eyes.

"Sydney works for Julian." Sloane told Emily.

Sydney eyes broke from him and smiled at Emily. "I'm his honest and dedicated secretary." Sydney joked.

"Well, she does a lot for me." Julian agreed.

"I do what any secretary would do. He isn't that bad at all, I can handle it."

"Usually the bank hires their international representatives from the clerks that work downstairs for a certain amount of years, however because Sydney is so bright and such a hard worker, she was placed in a special program for clerks. I couldn't allow Sydney with such the great amount of skill when it comes to international relations sit as a clerk for three years. So what the program does it take those skilled individuals and shadows another international representative. Julian Sark is one of our higher uppers."

"So Sydney, are you learning much from him?"

Sydney didn't want to say that she learned out to get things done quicker in the computer system or how to rush thing through the mail room easier. So she lied. "Yes, I'm learning a lot, more than I've if I was still working as a window clerk."

"And that's why you must like ethnic cuisine, spending all the time dealing with different countries." Emily concluded.

Sloane was silent. "We find that it's easier to earn respect and a higher clientele if our representatives can speak their language or have a higher knowledge of their culture." Sark said.

"I can see. And you teach Sydney that yourself?" Emily asked.

"A few months ago I got her cooking lessons with a Russian chef. I'm sure she learned some practicalities with Russian cuisine." Sark told Emily.

"Oh, that must why Francie says your so talented with Russian food."

"It was one of the most creative and nicest gifts I was given for my birthday." Sydney confessed.

"That's quite nice." Emily admired. She looked at the two pairs and had quite the idea. "Have you two danced at all?"

_"Yes." "No."_

"I see." Emily said. "Why won't Julian dance the next dance with you?"

"Oh no, Emily, I don't believe that's a good idea." "I can't dance." "I would love to Miss Bristow."

Sark offered his hand and Sydney stood there in limbo. "I'll help you, don't worry."

With hesitation, Sydney took it.

Sark lead Sydney out in the myriad of people and found a nice corner for themselves. Sydney put her arms up as she allowed Sark to move close to her and put her arm on hip and then took the other one in the palm of her hand. He squinted his eyes as he watch Sydney move hesitantly with every move he took.

"You really don't know how to dance, do you?"

"Dance, yes. Waltz no." Sydney admitted.

"I thought you were a dancer, though."

"Ballet. Pas de deux. Yes, I do. But I never waltzed before. Not even at my sweet sixteen cotillion." Sydney confessed.

Sark laughed. He couldn't imagined Sydney having a cotillion, in a bright puffy white gown. "You had a cotillion?"

"Everyone at my school had one, it was only right I had one as well." Sydney defended.

"Well, I guess I'm just going to teach you then." He concluded.

"Teach me. Here? Now?" Sydney questioned. "Let's just not."

Sydney turned around to walk away but Sark kept his hand in hers and pulled her back close, pulling her body in more than she was standing before. She looked up in surprised and took a deep breath in as he moved her arm to be around his shoulder and put his hand back on her hip.

"That's much better."

Yes, very good.

"Now, just follow me." Sark told her as they began to simply moved back and forth. "It starts as a simple box step."

Sydney nervously looked down at feet, unfortunately, because they were so close she could only see the tip of her satin mule. She began to hesitate a few steps and began to step on his feet.

"Oh! Sorry." Sydney apologized.

"Don't worry. You can step on my feet. It's going to happen." Sark turned her around and started another box step. "Remember, Sydney. Simple box step. Right foot back, left foot side." Sydney did as he told him to do.

"Good. Now, Right foot close, left foot forward. Brilliant. Now last step. Right foot forward, left foot close. Simple as that."

Sydney kept on playing his instructions over in her mind. _It's like ballet, just like ballet, it's dancing. You're dancing with him. Oh god, you're actually waltzing with him!_

"See, Sydney. Sloane was right, you are a great learner." Sark commended as they successfully began to waltz in the area where they were standing. Sark ambitiously pushed her into the group of dancers and began to lead her through the circling crowd. He could feel Sydney's palm tighten on his as she nervously began to spin and still think where her feet needed to be. She soon found the rhythm to the music and laugh almost with freedom as the moved among every other dancing couple.

"How did you become such a great dancer?" Sydney wondered.

"I use to live in Vienna during my teenage years. They have a special ball season in late January. I was brought to many of them by my mentor. She had a taste for a good meal and classical dancing once and a while." He told her truthfully.

"Oh," Sydney nodded. She remained silent for a moment and then smiled. "My parents loved to dance." Sydney said. "That's what they were doing the night my mother died. They went out dancing." Sydney's smiled face as that night flashed through her mind.

"I'm quite sorry to hear that." Sark said sympathetic.

"It's okay." Sydney smiled. "I was too young to remember her anyway."

Sark bit his lip. Did she really not remember her? He tried to remember something when he was six, but all he could remember was christmas time. The face of his own mother was only in his mind from pictures and film, nothing from his memory supported her vision.

The song ended and Sydney and Sark stopped short and took a few steps away from each other as they clapped at the end. Suddenly she could feel a cold hand on her shoulder. She turned around she stopped clapping abruptly.

"Sydney! I saw you dancing with my new fiancee!" It was Lauren Reed, or now the soon to be Mrs. Julian Lazerey. Lauren's hand went to play with her blonde locks just to show off the quite large diamond ring envious to any celebrity. "Isn't he the best? I saw you so skittish and mousy and he just got you moving along as if you were a true waltz partner!"

"Well, Sydney is a great dancer, Lauren. She was lead soloist for a local ballet company for a few short years." Sark stood up for Sydney.

"I bet she was. I'm sure you're feet aren't in the most horrible condition from your years as a ballet dancer. I've seen what harsh anomalies it could do to dancers."

Burned again. "No, my feet are fine." Sydney said between her teeth.

Lauren ignored Sydney. "We must invite her to our big day!" She said to Sark, she turned back to Sydney. "We were thinking about having a small wedding in Ireland where Julian use to spend some days there as a boy. Don't you think it's romantic? Of course, if you can afford a plane ticket. I know wasn't paid a thing when I was in advance placement, but my father helped me out when ever I needed it and more!"

Sydney kept on getting more and more lowly as Lauren talked. "I'll manage to attend." Sydney bitterly spoke.

"Great. You don't mind if I steal him away. I think I saw your guest at the bar too. You might have to watch out, you know how people get when there is an open bar." Lauren gave Sydney a quick wink as she almost pulled Sark away from her. Sydney stood there in the worst way, horribly upset and dumbed down by the likes of Lauren Reed.

Not only that but she assumed that her best friend was a drunk.

If anyone has a drinking problem, it's me. Sydney thought.

Sydney went over to Francie and found Francie with a coke and saw her talking to someone else.

"No, hockey's my thing. I never got into baseball or basketball."

Sydney smiled and added, "Plus, people beating each other into walls is pretty neat."

The man turned around she knew who it was, Michael Vaughn.

"Exactly." He puts an arm around her and brings her close to the bar, obviously a little tipsy, and Francie laughing quite a bit. "She gets it! Violence on ice, it's brilliant! Right Sydney?"

"Sure. Though I've never seen it." Sydney confessed.

"Aww! I'll have to take you girls to a game then. You'll love it!" Vaughn promised. "Now, what are you having?"

"Vodka rocks, please." Sydney moaned in stress about Lauren Reed.

"Oh, you're my type of woman!" Vaughn exclaimed. "Vodka rocks for the woman, Johnny!"

Sydney laughed at his positive and friendly attitude. "Why are you so down, my dear?" Vaughn looked around and nodded in agreement. "Yes, this can get you down. You know what, Johnny? Cancel that Vodka rocks." He ordered.

"Sure thing, Mickey." The voice down the bar replied. He took a five out of his wallet and put it on the bar.

"It's a open bar." Francie reminded him.

"No reason not to tip him." Vaughn told her.

"I like you!" Francie exclaimed. "I'm a waitress and I would love it if someone would tip me at one of these snob filled parties."

Vaughn took his arm off of Sydney's shoulder and put his blazer back over his white shirt. "Have you eaten yet?" He asked Sydney.

Sydney raised an eyebrow. "Are you taking me out for some food?"

"Well, I was thinking about hitting a Mcdonalds and liquor store, but if you want to go to a restaurant, I'm cool with that." Vaughn joked.

"Oooo!" Francie mouth opened wide. "I know the perfect place!"

"Sure! You show me the way, m'lady." Vaughn took his arm out and let Francie lead.

"I have to get my coat." Sydney told him. "Right Francie."

"Coat? Yeah...we have to get our coats?" Francie questioned as Sydney nodded. Francie took Sydney lead and they went to the coat check as Vaughn continued to walk out of the building and ask for a valet to order them a taxi.

Sydney pulled her aside with a hard tug. "Sydney isn't he cute? He was starring at you like an adorable puppy!"

"Francie! We're going to go out with him?" Sydney reprimanded him.

"Just for a few drinks. Syd, I'm starving! Why is it so bad. He's going to pick up the bill probably. Look at it like a free dinner." Francie offered.

"No."

"Yes." Francie whispered as Vaughn came back. Sydney shot Francie an horrible stare as Vaughn held his hands out for both of them.

"Are you ready my dears."

Sydney followed Vaughn as others were coming to get their coats. As she allowed the idea of Vaughn taking the two out she couldn't help to be a little awkward with the whole idea._ But isn't this what normal people do when they first meet? And he's not a complete stranger anyway. Plus, he is going to get the check. _Sydney thought.

As they were leaving the hallway the three crashed into two.

"Sydney?" Sark said surprised.

"Oh, hi."

"Oh, Sydney. I didn't know you came with someone else!" Lauren exclaimed. "I'm Lauren Reed and this is my fiancee Julian Lazerey!"

"I'm Michael Vaughn." He smiled. Francie just gave Lauren the death stare and Lauren eyebrows narrowed on why such a strange was looking rather psychotic.

From the timid disposition Sydney shown, Vaughn, as any man would do or perhaps sensed, put a hand over Sydney's shoulder and brought her near him. "We going out for bite to eat, we're going out for Italian, dear Sydney's favorite." He said confidently.

Sark looked up and down Vaughn with anger and suspicion. "Sydney's favorite is Russian. She loves the Russian Tea Room." He said firmly.

Vaughn laughed unbelievably, then something light up inside of Sydney. She leaned into Vaughn and put a hand over Vaughn's chest. "Well, it's his favorite. He's from France you know."

Sark eyes widened in disbelief. He had no idea Sydney was with a man, not even if he was a fellow agent. "Well, our taxi is waiting. See you around."

They both left the building and Sydney couldn't help but feel excited, high, thrilled, or even intoxicated with justice for all the things Lauren has ever said and just the look on his face. Jealousy. Yes, Jealousy was in his eyes. Anger too. And that's what Sydney wanted. Oh, that's what she always wanted. They all got into the taxi and Francie and Sydney began to laugh like they were school girls again.

"Oh my god, you were so great!"

"Did you see the look on his face!"

"You are such a great actress, Syd!"

"Yeah, yeah, I got talent, I deserve an oscar! Oh, Vaughn, that was simply brilliant!" Sydney applauded.

"Hey, no problem." Vaughn looked at the laughing pair and then questioned, "How did you know I was French?"

"Sloane didn't hire me for nothing." Sydney justified.

Vaughn smiled. "How many drinks are you girls preparing to have."

"I don't know, like twenty." Francie giggled, already slightly intoxicated from the champagne.

"Just a few." Sydney said.

"A few? No, you're going home completely wasted." Vaughn told her.

"Maybe three." Sydney told him.

"No." Vaughn demanded. "I'm picking up the bill. This is your time to totally get a man broke and your only going for three?"

"I'm going for twenty!" Francie said ambitiously.

"See, she's going for twenty, you can't let your friend out do you!"

"Okay, buy me the bottle."

"There we go! Driver, take us to the best restaurant and bar in town!"

Sydney was prepared to get wasted. Completely wasted if it was necessary to forget the likes of Julian Lazerey and his beloved fiancee Lauren Reed.

Let Vodka take away her sins and burn them all.


	4. Hungover

**Chapter 4 - Hungover**

When Sydney woke up she didn't even knew where she was. She looked around and saw white sheets, a red dialogue alarm clock, a dresser, her clothes laying beside the bed on the blue carpet. She squinted her eyes to see the red numbers on the clock, she saw it was way passed morning. Sydney's hand went to her head as she covered herself with the covers, rolled over, and covered her eyes in her pillow. What happened the night before actually never happened in Sydney's life, not once. She never drank a whole bottle of vodka before, which amazed her because she wasn't getting sick nor was she in the hospital getting her stomach pumped.

When she heard banging on the door she rolled over, her hand on her forehead to keep the light out of her eyes, and managed to see him with a breakfast tray.

"Good morn, milady." Sydney chuckled, which caused her to moan from her pounding headache. She managed to sit up as he put the tray on the bed. As Sydney sat up the sheet lowered to her stomach, unnoticed because of her pounding headache. It wasn't until she saw his heated stare that she realized she was quite exposed, or perhaps that she was completely naked.

Her hand went up to bring the sheet over her chest and moaned. She had slept with him. Of course she slept with him, she's naked on the bed and he's only wearing his boxers._ For godsakes, Sydney, you woke up naked and you're only realizing this now?_

"Here, you should eat Sydney before I bed you again." He joked but Sydney knew in some ways he was serious. She swallowed for some composure and calmed herself down. It wasn't the first time you slept with someone Sydney, it's just the first time you sorta...don't...remember it. And at least it isn't some random guy either, it's Vaughn, and even if you don't know him quite well he is an SD-6 agent, he must have some respectability to him.

Sydney looked at the tray and saw some toast, crackers, scrambled eggs, a glass of orange juice and set aside from the tray was a bottle of Smirnoff. She smiled as she opened the bottle and poured it into the orange juice, in the hope of getting rid of the hangover.

Vaughn only smiled when Sydney took a drink of her orange juice. She set down the glass and raised an eyebrow. "How come you aren't as bad as I am?"

"Oh, my dear Sydney, my parents weren't completely french. My father was third generation Irish, Irish don't get drunk." Sydney shrugged as she set the orange juice down on the tray and she then took a piece of the almost burnt toast and smeared it with butter. "But you came pretty close to an Irishman. Francie was out after the third cocktail but you weren't even touched after you drank half the bottle. They say it's all genetics how you hold the liquor."

"My dad use to do a pretty good job at it," Sydney muttered under her breath. She couldn't remember her mother's death that well, she made her subconscious forget that awful night but she certainly knew the outcome of her death all too well. She was ten when things got back to normal and even then everything was changed. And it only seemed normal because she finally got a nanny to live at home with her. From those years before her Nanny, she could remember the whiskey in the morning and the scotch at dinner, those dinners that her father actually spent with her.

He was a wreck.

Why could she remember that so well and not the moment she knew of her mother's death? Perhaps she didn't need to remember her mother's death because it didn't happen in front of her, the death of her beloved father was much more visible and painful.

"Francie?" Sydney asked.

"She went home in a taxi, but you insisted on coming home with me." Vaughn pointed out proudly.

"And we..." Sydney paused.

"Beautifully."

Sydney moaned as the back of her head dug into the pillow. "You were rather aggressive, even in the bar." Vaughn laughed.

"I'm sure I was."

What should she blame it on? The vodka? The hidden sexual frustration of celibacy for almost two years? The tensions between Julian Lazerey and herself? The stress of her job?

She's blaming it on the vodka. How pathetic would she be if she blamed it on anything else.

"And the little thing you did with your tongue was fantastic."

What the hell did she do with her tongue? She was oblivious to that.

"And..."

Sydney put her hand up to the air to stop him. She didn't want to know what else she did even though she was amazed that she was capable of it.

"Vaughn, where exactly did you transfer from?"

Sydney put the toast down and took another sip of her orange juice cocktail.

"I had a long term mission in Barcelona."

"That's why I never saw you around." Sydney concluded.

"So, how new are you?"

"Well, I came into the agency six months ago. I've been Agent Lazerey's secretary since."

"You're his secretary! Oh, I see. That means you're in advance placement."

"Yep, I got six more months to go." Sydney cheered.

"And are you in training?"

"I finished training a month ago."

"Wow." Vaughn remarked.

"I'm a fast learner." Sydney winked.

The two smiled at each other for the longest time. Sydney couldn't help but find him friendly and warm, everything Julian Lazerey was not. He even made her breakfast in bed, how hospitable and comforting he was. And, of course, he was cute. At least she didn't have a one night stand with someone that wasn't attractive.

Sydney was about to ask another question until both of their phones rang at the same time. Sydney motioned to her purse that was on the edge of the bed. Vaughn got up from sitting on the side of the bed and handed it to her. He went to his pocket of his pants that were laying on the floor to fetch his cellphone.

Vaughn looked at his and silenced it while Sydney looked at her caller ID screen.

Lazerey, Julian

"Damn it."

Sydney opened her phone and slowly put it against her ear.

"Sydney, where the hell are you?" Sydney winced from the volume.

"At home, it's a Saturday."

"I would be home as well if you didn't fill out my order incorrectly."

Sydney was surprised at his voice. It was vindictive and unforgiving, and for a moment it resembled her father's voice only in a regional accent. Julian never spoke to her as if she had failed or disappointed him. It reminded her of all the nasty moments that her father found her fixing a B to an A on her report card, another when he found out that she horribly picked the lock to the liquor cabinet and two of the bottles were completely empty, or the worst, when he found her making out with her best friend Regina (well, he was more surprised and clueless than upset but the look he gave her for the rest of the month was quite unsettling).

"I didn't..."

"I leave it you to fix it, Miss Bristow. Quickly, I might add."

He hung up on her. She snapped her phone shut, finished off her orange juice, and then went searching for her underwear.

"My boss just called me in. I have to go in to fix some things."

She couldn't find her bra, but she found her red silk dress. She brought the satin up to her nose and found the scent of alcohol and cigarettes. What did I do last night? Sydney thought.

Vaughn went to his closet and found a tee-shirt and a pair of drawstring pants and gave them to her. Sydney looked at his offer and took them. As she was putting the tee-shirt over her head, Vaughn took the dress and hung it up in his closet.

"Wear those to go home and allow me to dry-clean your dress."

Sydney looked hesitant down at the sweats she wore and the red dress hanging up in her closet.

"It was my mother's dress." Sydney warned.

"And I promise that it will get to you in better shape than it is right now. Please." Vaughn walked from the closet towards Sydney, giving her a kiss on the cheek and letting his hand run under the shirt Sydney borrowed. His hand went up the side of her waist and she welcomed his thumb to the curve under her breast with a slight moan. "It promises me that I get to see you again."

Sydney blushed the most reddish shade her face could glow. "Really?"

Vaughn laughed. "Yes, really? Why wouldn't I?"

"It's not about the sex is it?" Sydney widened her eyes.

"No." Vaughn shook his head. "We'll have a real date. I'll take you out to dinner or a movie." He put his forehead to hers and took a deep breath in. "I want to see you again, Sydney."

"Okay." Sydney nodded. Vaughn thanked her by leaning in and giving her a long lingering kiss. Sydney couldn't help but roll into her toes and meet his height. When they broke the kiss Sydney spoke, "I have to go."

"I'll see you, okay?"

Sydney found her heels and slipped them on, she winced when she felt a new blister on the side of her toe. Vaughn face light up as he found a pair of sandals and gave them to Sydney. Sydney didn't hesitate when she slipped the pair off and wore the sandals, even if they were wide and large on her feet.

"Bye Sydney. I'll call you." He said as Sydney headed out of the bedroom to the front door.

"You don't have my number." Sydney said as she opened the door, her body half out, ready to leave.

"I'll find it." He kissed her cheek one last time and Sydney smiled with glee as she closed the door.

Vaughn bolted the door as he usually did and returned to his room to find his cellphone. He must of laid it on the bed when he was helping Sydney get her things. What was it with that girl? One minute she very humble and quiet and she could turn into a normal college student just with a good drink and the right company. She was responsible and content with her job but was she too young?

Vaughn found his phone and flipped it open, he knew who it was and where they had to meet but he just looked at the text message, reassuring his prediction.

_131_

Vaughn looked around his apartment one last time. He felt something foamy under his foot, he bent down the pick the object up and realized it was Sydney's bra, just tucked neatly under his bed.

He took it and put it in his drawer.

Hopefully she wouldn't miss it.

Sark returned from Kuwait with his heavy suitcase and a small cut on his arm, though concealed by his suit. He had a schedule, a order of things, that he had to accomplish to call his day normal. He would take his prized car to work, park in the upper level parking lot, go through security at the back entrance, pass Sydney's desk and greet her in the morning, collect his messages as he traded his blackberry for her to update with a new daily schedule, come to his office and collect his inbox as Sydney ordered his coffee, and he would continue with unpredictable job.

This morning he did the same. Drive to work, go through the back entrance, go through security, and when he went to get his messages he hoped that Sydney would greet him with a gaiety smile and cater to him as she did every other morning.

She smiled, but it wasn't the same as before. Her smiles were of appreciation and amusement as he flirted with her or said some cocky, or perhaps inappropriate comment.

"Good Morning, Miss Bristow." He watched her look up from her computer. She gave him a yellow piece of paper full of numbers and contact names as he search into his pocket to hand her his PDA.

"Good Morning, Mr Lazerey." Sark felt that it just wasn't as welcoming as it use to be. She took the electronic device he offered her and then reach over to the other side of her desk to give him a croissant and side of orange juice. He could remember the first day Sydney gave him breakfast at the office.

Sark came in the office and despite his boss's plea for him to stay home and return to better health, he ignored them and returned to his office only a day after his disastrous mission. Sydney had found her niche automatically on the first day she was brought in and since then she had been the best secretary he could possibly ask for. He greeted Sydney at her desk in front of his office. He expected her to smile, hand him his messages, and do as every other normal day. Instead when she saw him above her desk she got on her feet surprised of his presence in the office.

"Mr Lazerey! What are you doing here! I thought you would at least take the day off from your arrival back." Sydney exclaimed. He ignored her as he ignored all the other astonished individuals that morning, and went to his office.

"I'm fine, Miss Bristow." He said as he took off his jacket with a slight moan from his injured shoulder.

"You're not fine." Sydney put her hands on her hips and watched him sit in his chair like an elderly man. She warmed up to him as she walked around to the side of his desk. "You look like you haven't eaten anything for days."

"I ate on the plane." He covered his eyes, which he assumed carried large dark circles from his lack of sleep.

"Was it..." Sydney shut her mouth, knowing the question was adolescent.

"Was it, what?" Sark restated her question. "Come now, what was it?" He said annoyed.

Sydney looked away and swallowed. "Was it hard? I know it was, it was a stupid question. What I mean was, how did you come back alive?"

Sark looked up at her. Her eyes were full of curiosity and possibly fright. She knew one day she would be held in the same situation, possibly worse. She was not questioning him, she was questioning herself.

"When you're held in a situation such as that. When you're held captive for days without water, food, light, or communication you have to keep your mind sane. It's easy the first few days, but after a week passes and they work you down with torture, you think of what pleases you. What is your fondest memory Sydney?"

Sydney watched his eyes search hers. Sark watched her look away and then back at his as her lips grew into a small smile. "My parents. Together. We were out by the ocean."

"Tell me more."

"Mom was wearing one of her floral dresses and Dad looked so happy and young. He use to have black hair, jet black and Mom's hair use to curl around my fingers. No one was there when we went. It was a school day. Mom and I both skipped because Dad had the day off and we all wanted to spend it together. The whole day I collected seashells, my mother kept them in my little pail, my father and I built sandcastles and chased me around the wet sand, and I loved it."

"What did you eat?"

"We went out to eat. I had hamburgers and fries. I couldn't eat all of mine so my mother finished it. Dad had fish, I remember it because I hate the smell of it. I can't remember what my mother had."

Sydney's eyes looked in the corner of the room as if the room would open up and create a beach in the horizon just from her memory.

"That, that is how you survive, Sydney." Sark told her. Sydney looked back at him with confusion. "You think about where you rather be, the past, and not what they are going to do to you or how to get out. That would come when the time is right. But when they got you and doing everything possible to cause pain to your body, you think about that."

Sydney stopped looking confused and took the advice to her memory.

"Look at you, you look five pounds lighter. You just..." Sydney shook her head as she walked towards the door. "I'll get you some food, you must at least eat something. I believe in the power of comfort foods."

Ever since he came back from that mission she had supplied some sort of pastry and orange juice for the pure sugar and uplifting taste. She was always eating something from her desk, a small bag of polish cookies or a packed lunch if the work load was tough. Sydney would always offer some, and he would always decline, he was not a believer in American comfort food as everyone else was.

But that morning, the croissant was stale and the flavor of the orange juice horribly lacked. Even his coffee tasted a little old.

As he was going through his paperwork he couldn't help but remember the night of the gala. How fake Lauren was with her snide comments and looks and he couldn't stop thinking of the lowly Agent Vaughn. How perfectly ironic. He was fully aware of who Michael Vaughn was, or perhaps who his father was as well. Sydney had to find him. Not find him but actually fall for him as well.

_How bloody ironic._

_The man is a incompetent clud. He didn't even know her favorite restaurant, a restaurant I got her cooking lessons at. What if they're sleeping together? I wonder if he touches her the right way, that he comments on her beautiful legs, kisses her in the crook of the neck, runs his hands down her back...damn it._

_I would love to get him in the act, watching him kiss her, watching his hands roam her body, and then just with a simple bullet ending his life right there._

_Sydney wouldn't like it too much, if only she had her mother's dark sense of humor._

He didn't expect to be interrupted in his fantasy. His fantasy, that's what he called killing Michael Vaughn. There was a time when he would have called it disturbing, but his exposed him to the dark side of things. But she came in, storming in a blaze of fury. Sydney was amazing when was angry, it was the very first moment he witnessed it. He expected her and seen her to be poised and calm, like her mother. He never expected her to be angry or impatient. Yes, those were the words to describe her.

She stood in front of his desk, her hands crossed over her chest and her jaw locked as she scowled at him.

"What the hell were you thinking when you told Sloane I would be delighted to work in the archives?"

Oh, yes. He remembers why she was so angry. That Saturday, after the gala, he talked to Sloane about Sydney's desired wish to help out SD-6 even further. That Sydney was pleading with him to take some of her secretarial work down to the basement and help file old paperwork into the database, helping the transition from old debriefs and mission specs to data information. Sloane questioned why Sydney would take up such dull work, and Sark supplied the reason was because she would have liked to learn about past missions and how they were successful or why they failed. Sloane smiled about learning about Sydney's yearning for furthering her education at SD-6. Sloane told him it was impossible for her to take off her secretarial work, needed for the program, but perhaps if she wished to stay after that she could.

Sark knew when Sloane propositioned her he knew Sydney couldn't refuse. Or wouldn't. Possibly too afraid to impose that she wasn't willing to work hard as a trainee and impress him and the agency. Sydney was a people-pleaser. It's was probably why she was such a fantastic secretary.

"Were you drunk off of some ninety-eight dollar bottle of wine?" She said with aggravation.

Sark sat up straight in his chair and buttoned the front of his suit. "I was not intoxicated, Miss Bristow. Don't assume I was because of an action you find disagreeable."

His accent was heavy and his voice was sharp, which angered Sydney even more. "Don't patronize me. I'm not a child, and you're not my father!"

"I wouldn't if you didn't interrupt me so informally. You could have knocked." Sark pointed out.

"I could have broken your arm instead, so be thankful." Sydney countered. Sark looked away giving a stiff cackle. "Tell me." Sydney ordered.

Sark looked back at her, looked up and down, she reminded him of wealth and power. How intoxicating she was, better than a 'ninety-eight dollar bottle of wine'. "You're magnificent."

Sydney was taken aback and questioned him with surprise, "What?"

"The proper term is, excuse me, and tell me, Miss Bristow. How dedicated are you in becoming an agent? Because an action like this can hinder you in ever becoming one."

Sydney's eyes betrayed her. They weren't angry, they were confused and surprised. She wasn't naive, she knew his word meant so much in becoming an agent. If she failed him, she failed the program. She'll have to start at square one.

"You wouldn't do that." Sydney said doubtfully.

"But you know I can." Sark said in victory. "And since you know I can, you better knock next time."

Just like a Derevko, they have to be successfully threatened and countered before they settle down. If not done properly, it only upsets them even more.

"You still did not answer my question." Sydney reminded.

"Well, I know your dedication towards your profession, or achieving your future profession. I assumed you would be excited to show that to Mr Sloane, and perhaps gain some insight into past missions. I apologize if I mistaken your adherence." Sark looked down at his paperwork and shifted in his seat as if he was returning to his work, which he wasn't.

"You know because of the hours I had to maintain because I was archiving mission almost a decade old, I had to miss three dates with Vaughn and two dinners with Francie. Not to mention going through basement security, that guard loves to frisk." Sydney said in disgust.

He was sympathetic that she was taken advantage of by a guard, he'll have to make a mental note, but in no way was he empathetic to her social life with Agent Vaughn.

It was his plan the whole time.

"You should have thought that through before you decided to take up franization with a coworker. Your work comes first Sydney, or perhaps I had your priorities mistaken."

Sydney thinned her lips, "No, you don't have my priorities mistaken."

He smiled in victory as she turned his back to him and exited his office.

_Brilliant. _

Sydney felt like giving a good thrashing right on his desk, in front of everyone if necessary. He was the type that never got a good spanking as a child and got everything handed to him. That angered her beyond belief. Everyone believed that she was handed everything, an private education, summer camps in France, and perhaps her clothes. Her private education was a way to get rid of her. Finishing schools were disguised as a summer camps, her father's way of saying she was too shy and her social life was important. Perhaps it was, but did she really need to learn flower arrangement, table etiquette, and international relations? (Well perhaps the latter). And her clothes, well she didn't have a closet full of Ann Taylor, Banana Republic, and The Gap for all of her adolescence, it was just a rather nice way of her father telling her not to wear her mother's clothes, no matter how big they were on her as a child.

No one really knew her, and Sark certainly didn't. Well, he did know the right ways to push her buttons, Sydney had to admit.

Sydney sat down at her desk. How could he do this to her? How long would she be working in the basement? How long would it take before Sloane noticed her persistence?

She rested her face in the palm of her hand and took a look around her organized desk. Did she have a life out of this job?

Her eyes bolted from her paperwork towards Sark's blackberry. Could she...would she?

Sydney picked it up and turned it on, she knew Sark couldn't remember even Lauren's birthday without his PDA or her reminding him.

Sydney turned out of her chair and walked through the eighth floor and went towards an closed sets of office and opened it without even looking if it was occupied. She found him, however, his head bent over a microscopic light over a board of circuits. She touched his should and he bolted up, his tweezers falling from his fingers and bumping his light away. He looked at her with surprise.

"Miss Bristow...Sydney...Miss Bristow?"

"Sydney, fine." She said. She took a look around and smiled. "Nice."

"Oh, thanks Miss Bristow, I mean, Sydney."

"It's okay, Marshall."

"What can I do you for, it's not everyday a pretty lady comes into my office. Not saying other agents aren't pretty, or that you're pretty in a harassment suit way, I'm just commenting on your looks...what I mean is..."

"Marshall?"

"Yeah."

"Thank you." Sydney smiled. He nodded comfortingly. Sydney held up the PDA for him. Marshall took it and began looking at it as if it was a prized foreign object. "It's my boss's."

"Reckon it would be. I didn't even know they released it yet. Titanium with an aluminum battery. This thing is indestructible, not even a bullet can get through this. It would be a perfect shield." Marshall held it onto his chest. "I mean pow, it wouldn't even get through this baby."

"Marshall, could you do a favor, possibly a secret?" Sydney offered.

"Secrets, oooohhh, yeah. I mean we work with secrets every day. Yeah, I guess so. Anything for you, Miss Bristow. I mean Sydney."

"Is there a way you can get a virus onto that." She motion towards the blackberry. "It's a computer right? Is there a way you can get a worm on it."

"You want a virus or a worm?" He said with disbelief, not that she would do something like that, but said with impressment. "Why?"

"See, that's the secret you can't share. See, I when I'm put on overtime without my consent, I get a little upset." Sydney said with a smile.

He was put off for a second. Sydney Bristow, a beautiful and intelligent agent-or soon to be agent, was crazed with anger.

"That's why you want a worm on your boss's PDA?" He clarified.

"Yes."

He went to his computer, no hesitation showed as he connected the PDA by the many different sorts of cradles he had in his computer. "To tell you the truth Miss Bristow, I did the same. To my father's computer. He wouldn't let me go to the comic book convention downtown, understandable because I was thirteen at the time, and downtown, well, it's pretty scary. Well my dad had a massive IBM computer, huge thing, probably would weigh a good hundred pounds. I put a virus on that thing and like zap, all of his files were gone. It was nice, he was so busy that he didn't even realize I snuck out of the house to go with my pals down. I dressed like Spock."

Sydney smiled. "I would have seen you as Captain Kirk."

Marshall blushed at the compliment. "Well...Dr. Spock was pretty bad-ass."

"Of course, just like you are now doing this for me." Sydney said with gratitude.

"I got the perfect one for you too." Sydney watched him open the DOS program and him running the binary codes back and forth on the screen. He worked fast, changing the numbers to customize for the blackberry. "It's a simple worm, not to much to it. Just enough to make an impact." He told Sydney as he finished the codes and she saw it being update into the PDA. Sydney took it off the cradle when he was done and it sat warm in her hand.

"So, what type is it?" Sydney asked.

"It's a good virus. Every time he tries to access a day, event, or schedule it will show when he searches for the details it will turn off. Every time he gets a message and is about to open it, it turns off. Every time he even tries to send a message it will turn off when he presses the send button. It's quite frustrating."

"It's perfect. You're a genius." Sydney said happily. "Thank you so much, Marshall, you're a sweetheart."

"Hate to be your boss." Marshall said. "Not to say I wouldn't, I mean I would. It would be great. I would love have been your boss but it would suck if you did this to me, but of course there would be another Marshall. Is there another Marshall?"

Sydney laughed. "No, there is only one Marshall. One Marshall I would ever go to that is."

Marshall looked confused and then smiled. "Oh, that's me."

Sydney took another look at the PDA and then left the office. She knew Marshall was competent enough to keep it a secret. Even though Marshall was not a secretary he was apart of the large percentage of those who were only employed to serve field agents, which meant taking a lot of responsibility and sometimes tripe from those who had higher rank.

_Ridiculous power trip, that's what he had._

Sydney returned to her desk just as the phone was ringing off it's hook. She picked it up and put it to her ear before she even sat down.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Syd."

Sydney's heart beat even faster as she smiled with glee at the familiar voice.

"Hi, Vaughn. How are you?"

"Busy as hell, Dixon and I just got off the plane and I'm stuck doing the debrief with Sloane."

Sydney could hear another voice laugh and says something among the lines that Vaughn suggested he write it.

"Nonsense, why would I do that?"

"Because your considerate and remarkably kind." Sydney told him.

"Do you hear that, Dixon? It's because I'm considerate and remarkably kind." He shared another laugh with his partner and returned to his conversation.

"Was it successful?" Sydney asked vaguely.

"We had some technicalities, but it went alright in the end."

Sydney assumed the worst. "Are you hurt? Is it serious?"

"No, Syd." He pleaded. "Just a few scratches, part of the job, that's all."

Sydney leaned into her desk. "I want to see you tonight."

She heard him sigh. "I want to see you too."

"I'm sorry I've been so busy, but my boss is being such a jerk."

"Yeah, because he knows your seeing me."

Sydney denied it. "No, give him a powertrip in a bad mood and he's suddenly better. Isn't the first time."

"Can you see me soon?" Vaughn asked her. "Tell me and we'll go."

"I thought you were busy."

"I don't care. I miss you."

Sydney smiled. "We've only been together for two weeks."

"And I miss you."

Sydney smile grew into a grin as she held the phone closer to her mouth. "I miss you too."

Just as she spoke that, Sark closed the office door behind him and stood above Sydney. She jumped as she heard the door close and look up to see him, his eyes annoyed by her inappropriate conversation. It didn't take too long for Sydney to realize he was needing his PDA. She watched the electronic device being held in his palm, successfully organized and corrupted.

Sydney returned to her conversation over the phone.

"Let's go to Santa Barbara this Friday. We'll stay until Sunday night, just us and the beach." He offered.

"Santa Barbara? It's like fifty degree's outside. You want to go to the beach?"

"Ah, fifty degree's isn't that cold. It doesn't matter, we'll stay in a nice hotel, have dinner, and not be interrupted."

"This friday?"

"I'll make the reservations. I make you so happy that you'll never want to leave me."

He hung up the phone on her, making her wait in anticipation.

Sark watched her put down the phone after her conversation was over. He listened that far in that he knew that she was leaving this Friday for Santa Barbara. He knew he couldn't make her stay, and he certainly would if he could. However he could do a lot more than just ground her at SD-6 and making her shuffle paperwork.

He went back into his office and took his cellphone out of his pocket and speedialed his fiancee's number.

"Lauren, love. Irina wants us to go away for a while...where, Santa Barbara."


End file.
